A Voice in the Dark
by White Aster
Summary: A long-range shuttle, a communications mech, and a very long-distance relationship. (Blaster/Cosmos, written for the Transformers Reverse Bang 2014.)


**Title(s):** Galaxies (art) / A Voice in the Dark (fic)

**Link to artwork:** Artwork here!

**Artist:** heavybomb

**Author:** White Aster

**Continuity:** G1/IDW

**Rating:** G (art) / NC-17 (fic)

**Characters/pairings:** Cosmos/Blaster

**Content advice/warnings:** Sticky and tactile/wireplay sex. Relationship building, phone(comm)-sex, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, voyeurism/exhibitionism, sizekink, happy ending AU.

**Summary:** A long-range shuttle, a communications mech, and a very long-distance relationship.

**Author Notes:**

This is based on what I could remember and google of the G1/IDW canonverse, but no doubt some things that are slightly off. The end is centered around a peaceful AU that isn't related to anything in canon (in-joke notwithstanding). Or, I suppose you could assume it's a-bit-future ongoing comicverse. Whatever floats your boat! This goes along with the idea of Cosmos as actually-big-and-shuttle-sized, rather like he is in the ongoing IDW comics, rather than cute little minibot Cosmos from the cartoon. Because we liked it that way. Many thanks to Heavybomb, Moogle, and Blue for beta-ing! :D

* * *

I knew him for vorns before I ever met him in person. I knew him by voice and comm frequency, by his ident across my HUD and the smooth cadence of his words. He knew my name, which is important when you are so often unmoored from everyone and everything. To him, I wasn't just TransCyberComm Transport Specialist 98645367, and when my assignments sometimes had me on-duty for a vorn or more a time, that meant a lot.

Before the war, there was a particular sub-sub-genre of romance fiction that centered on shuttles and comm mechs. The appeal was very specific, very niche, and it was mostly read (and written, usually under pseudonym) by deep-space shuttles themselves. Most other frametypes didn't understand the appeal, but every long-range space-faring mech understands what you mean if you call someone a "voice in the dark". There's nothing more intimate than being the only voice we hear.

What I'm getting at is that I fell for him before I even knew what he looked like, and that wasn't particularly surprising. I know I wasn't alone in that, over the years. He was The Voice, after all, as Cybertron became increasingly dark.

But before he was The Voice, he was just TransCyberComm Communications Specialist 11457.

* * *

"Shouting out to TCTS 98645367, status check 09-432-9. '367, please respond."

"TCTS 98645367, responding."

"Awesome. How's life out in the black, '367?"

"Um. Meteoric?"

"Oof. Hopefully in a fun and dodging way and not a 'I've got a meteor stuck in my fuel pump' way?"

"Heh, much more of the former. They're not moving very fast, really. Nothing my plating can't handle, if I miscalculate."

"Good to hear, good to hear. You be careful out there. I know you shuttles, you're all daredevils and stunt-flyers."

"...I'm beginning to think that you don't actually know any shuttles, '457."

"I know you, don't I?"

"Well, yes, for a given value of 'know'. Do you even know my actual designation?"

"Urm..."

"Not in my file?"

"Not the one they give to ME, which is ridiculous, if you ask me. Primus. Like it'll cut into productivity if someone calls you by your actual NAME."

"...Cosmos. My name is Cosmos."

"Oooh, a rebel. I like that. Nice to meetcha, Cosmos. Name's Blaster."

* * *

It was, of course, against the rules, but the company regulations against personal chit-chat on company bandwidth were relatively small rules. Our managers also seemed to work off the premise that as long as everyone got their work done on time, they would turn a blind eye to minor infractions.

Besides, the world was so full of rules in those days. You had to break a few just to feel alive every now and then. Which was why I encouraged Blaster's chatter, even while I was dodging meteor showers and probably should have been watching where I was going.

I might have had to dig a micro-meteorite or two out of my internals, but I never told Blaster that.

It wasn't that we had (or have) a lot in common, though what we had was enough to get by. We liked some of the same music, and at the time I was (badly) attempting to learn music composition, simply as something to do. Blaster graciously kept me fed with fresh inspiration, both of the respectable (licensed recordings, actually purchased in my name) and less respectable (bootlegs, pirated tracks, illegal remixes) variety.

* * *

"I'm just having trouble working with each layer of instrumentation separately and then having it all match up again when I compile. I mean...well, you've heard it, I'm sure you know what I mean."

"Yeah, I hear what you mean. Your bassline's thrown a bit wobbly once the vibroharp comes in-"

"Yes, yes, I know. Primus, that vibroharp. I hate the vibroharp, at this point."

"The vibroharp in general, or this particular passage of vibroharp, or maybe the particular vibroharp sim script-"

"Oh, now you're being ridiculous and just trying to make me laugh."

"It's working, isn't it?"

"Yes!"

"Awesome. But I agree, that vibroharp just isn't working in this piece. I hear what you're tryin' to do-and it's a good thing to try, by the way, kudos on that-but with the lines you've already laid down, it's gonna be difficult to fit it all in. I just think that it's a bit out of your league right now."

"You're probably right. Thanks for being honest."

"No reason to be anything but! Wouldn't let a rookie take an advanced job, no matter what field we're talkin' about. And for someone who only picked this up a vorn ago, you're makin' some nice tunes."

"Thanks, Blaster. That means a lot. I mean...obviously I'm not doing this to release anywhere, but it's nice to hear that you think it's good."

"Hey, it's true. It's pretty admirable, really, making something beautiful even though you were sparked to doing something else. It's, like, a little extra joy that Primus didn't count on."

"Aaaw...now you're just trying to embarrass me."

"Compliment you, mech, compliment you. Big difference. I mean, credit where credit's due. I sure can't do what you've done."

"It wasn't that hard. I really think that anyone could do it if they took the time."

"Nah, nah. I'm too impatient. All the time it takes to make something, I coulda listened to a zillion new tunes. I'm definitely the professional listener type."

"Well, I can't say I feel bad about that, considering you listen to mine."

* * *

It was the memory of some of that inspiration that actually made me wonder, much later on, if Blaster might have Decepticon sympathies. Because, as I said, functionalism was alive and well back then, and though remixers weren't technically doing anything wrong, the idea of taking a "good" work (made by a sparked artist, with full backing of the Entertainment Guild) and having an amateur slow it down, tear it apart, and/or smash it up with something else until it was almost unrecognizable was, to many, similar to taking a great sculpture, cutting it apart, and having a sparkling weld it back together: it destroyed the thing and turned it into something inevitably less.

It was just entertainment, some mecha fooling around for fun, but it was, at best, not respectable, and the remix scene was a chaotic harbor for all sorts of anti-functionalist rhetoric.

* * *

"Hey...you got anything against remixes?"

"You mean unofficial ones?"

"Yeah."

"Well, not as such. Why?"

"Went to a show last downshift. It was pretty good. Want to take a listen?"

"Sure!"

"Comin' atcha. It was an open mic, so kinda a mixed bag."

"Yeah, I can...oof...tell. That first one was...yeah."

"Yeah, shoulda warned you to turn down the gain on that one. Not sure what ze was goin' for, but def not my style."

"Hey, the second one's good. What's the name? I can't catch it."

"Soundwave. Some comm mech out of Kaon. Haven't heard him around before."

"It's kind of...strange."

"He's got a new vibe, that's for sure. 'Subversive' is the word they're usin', now that I look him up. The one he did was scrubbed of vocals, but...whoa. Yeah, uh...three clicks from his name to some 'net sites that I don't want to be associated with, if you get my tune?"

"Fits the big, bad anti-establishment remixer stereotype, huh?"

"All the way. That mech is obviously NOT happy with the system. ...But he's got a fantastic ear for harmonics."

* * *

My frametype's not known for being the most social. It's the flipside of the temperament that allows us to go a vorn or more with no physical contact: not really needing a lot to fill the tanks, if you know what I mean. Still, one of the best parts of my career as a courier was being able to see so many different cultures. This was a bit strange for a Cybertronian, who (much to our detriment later on) were fairly xenophobic as a species, especially toward organics. But shuttles tended to be anywhere from tolerant to abnormally interested in other cultures. We had to, to facilitate the inevitable dealings with other races in deep space. We ran into everything out there: friendly ships looking to share news, races that shot at Cybertronians on sight, opportunistic pirates, and even our share of first contacts, if we were working some of the border sectors.

Even on routine routes, I sometimes had contact with fringe colony or allied worlds that were utterly strange and fascinating to me. Metalloid, organic, silicate, energy-based...the universe was filled with a remarkable variety of life, and I enjoyed setting pedes on alien soil and seeing what was to be seen. Or hearing what was to be heard.

* * *

"-11098 delivered successfully, uploading acceptance documentation...now."

"...aaaand acceptance documentation received. How is ol' Andrazi 9 this fine orn?"

"Very warm! Also humid. I was glad to get back into space. I was only down there for a local daycycle, but there were these small nonsentient insectoids that kept climbing me if I stood still for any length of time. I think they were attracted to the heat of my systems. I had to shake a lot of them out before I left the surface."

"...ew. Thanks for sharing!"

"Hey, if I have to suffer for the good of the company, so do you. I know you're tough, Blaster. I know you can handle it."

"I'm obviously not THAT tough. I'm definitely not random-organic-infestation-proof. Yuck."

"Oh, and here!"

"What's...oooh, a soundfile? Have I finally drug you into the nefarious world of misuse of company bandwi-oh. OH!"

"Yes, yes, you are a terrible influence."

"Oh, Cosmos, you sure know the way right to my spark. Did you SERIOUSLY record Andrazi music for me?"

"Um. Yes? I hope you can hear them all right. I know it's not very good quality. The Andrazi don't really do professional music recordings. I asked, and they just looked at me funny. This is just what my sensors could pick up, but I thought you might like it."

"Oh, the BEATS! Andrazi're the ones with the multiple arms, aren't they? How do they...what's that resonance I can hear?"

"Ze was playing zir own body. The Andrazi have an exoskeletal shell of some sort of dense organic matter. The one I saw was thumping on zir thorax and whistling the tune-"

"Wait, wait, ONE was doing this? Oh, Primus, I've never heard an organic that could do multitonal!"

"I know! It sounded really unique, and as far as I could tell, ze was just doing it to pass the time while ze was waiting for public transportation. It looked kind of ridiculous, but then ze got the rhythm going, and if you wait until 8:32, someone else came by and joined and...yeah."

"Oh, this is so incredibly awesome. Music I've never heard before! Cosmos, Cosmos, I am going to have to do something VERY nice for you when you get back to Cybertron."

"O...oh? Oh no, no, you really don't!"

"Oh YES, I really do. Seriously. This is...this is really sweet. Best present I've gotten in forever. Thanks."

"You're very welcome! It wasn't much trouble, I just...thought you might like it."

"I do!"

"Good! Um...that's good! I'm glad."

"I'm serious, you know. We should get together, if you ever fly by my way. Y'know, if you're up for it."

"Oh! Um. I'd...I'd like that. We've talked so much, it'd be nice to see you in person."

"Right on. It's a date, then."

"...yes!"

* * *

"Date." Such a small glyph, yet it changed everything.

I had long thought of Blaster as a friend. Quietly. Privately. "Friend" could encompass a lot of things, and I thought it to be a nice, safe, positive-but-vague term to classify Blaster in my mind. I was well aware that the dynamics of our relationship were very different for him and I. To me, he was the only Cybertronian in the universe, when I was out on a run. To him, I was one of an entire docket of shuttle communications. He went home, I assumed, when he was offshift, and went out, talked to friends, interfaced with lovers. The times between our conversations were filled with a social life and other mechs for him. For me, they were filled with the quiet dark of space, the hum of my engines, and the inside of my own processor.

I suppose what I'm saying is that I knew I was very fond of him, but I tried not to overestimate how he might feel about me.

The particular variant of _meeting/appointment_ that he'd used, though, didn't leave much room for mistaken interpretation. It wasn't an...EXPLICIT version of the glyph, but it was the first time his glyphs had taken on any sort of personal relationship shadings, and the first time that I did not object in the slightest.

A date. I had a date.

I might have done a ridiculously ludicrous barrel roll.

At the time, I was on the first half of an outward bound arc, delivering and picking up packages from a string of research stations. Andrazi was my third stop, and I had 75% of a vorn left in the trip before I completed the arc back at Cybertron. So, there was a lot of time to go before this date could even occur.

Which meant that I had a lot of time to worry about what might happen when we met. Would he like me? Would I like him? I found comm mech frames to be very cute, and I assume that Blaster had no objections to shuttle frames, given that he had access to my file and physical specs. But there was more to attraction than the physical. From our discussions, I could tell that we were very different. He was very outgoing and boisterous, where I was more reserved and shy. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, especially for a tryst, but one never knew how we'd tweak each other in the metal.

I looked forward to it...but worried nonetheless.

Maybe Blaster noticed. He certainly went about setting my mind at ease.

He'd sign off the company network sometimes and then transmit to me on his own power. At first it was just to talk more freely, more personally, than we could when stealing TCC bandwidth. We talked about our pasts, about what we hoped for our futures. I told him about how I'd like to be transferred to some of the deeper space routes. He told me about the cassette he was designing, how he'd started gathering the materials and begun submitting the applications to get a sparking license. We probed each other gently with careful questions and answers, and, once we each determined that the other was not a rabid functionalist, he admitted he'd like to run his own music show at some point. I confided into him that I'd rather like to respec to be more than a simple cargo shuttle...maybe become a surveyor or a first-contact specialist.

* * *

"You'll need a lot of extra training for that, won't you?"

"Oh, yes. I can get some of it through the company modules, but I'll probably need to go to one of the Academies for the sciences. I'm hoping that I can get enough qualifying experience through deep space runs to not need a sponsor."

"Not a bad plan. Heard of a few mechs who've managed that. Especially if you're not trying to get into, oh, Vos or Iacon or something."

"Ha! No, no, maybe Altihex or Protihex. I hear they're more likely to take worthy candidates, so long as you can pay tuition."

"True. Still not cheap, though."

"Some of the longer deep space runs to some of the core alien planets pay really well."

"Yeah, because they're dangerous. We lose a few shuttles every vorn, because someone catches 'em out on their own in the middle of nowhere."

"I know. I'll need to upgrade, be able to defend myself. Which is the FIRST thing I'm saving up for... It's a long-term plan, you know? Lots of steps."

"Yeah, I know."

"What about you? You have a plan for your show?"

"Eh, kinda sorta? I mean, I'd like to do it, but part of me wonders whether it's worth it. Getting the signal out there has never been hard, but they're starting to come down on the independent broadcasters more."

"Because of the anti-functionalists?"

"Mostly, yeah. Don't get me wrong, music's my life, but I'm not sure that it's worth all that just to replay some tunes. 'Sides, unless you get a following from the underground, you never really make much money at it, and if you do, the Entertainment Guild starts watchin' you real hard. And again, more and more of the underground's getting caught up in politics. It's just not my thing. I got spark licenses to get. Cassettes to build and raise. Gettin' caught up in something even mildly illegal's not the best decision right now."

"True."

"Yeah. ...But then again, no one's ever said that I'm overly bright, you know?"

"Oooh, a rebel. I like that."

"Hah!"

* * *

After awhile...well...some of our private chats became a little less innocent and a lot more...intimate? Pleasurable? Pornographic? All of the above, really.

Primus, his voice, purring all the naughty details of what he wanted to do with me straight into my processor? Should have been ILLEGAL.

Honestly. The mech had no shame, and before I knew it, neither did I.

* * *

"-but as much as I like someone playing with my wiring, nothing really beats a nice, hard penetrative 'face. Spike, valve, I like it all. You've got both a spike and valve, right?"

"Y...yeah..."

"Mmm, good. I like to change it up. First overload by spiking my partner and then riding zeir spike for all I'm worth. There's something in my wiring...a spike overload just makes my whole valve reaaally sensitive. Makes it so much better when zey start really pounding into me. ...that was probably more than you wanted to know, hmm?"

"N...no, not at...not at all. I...did ask...after all..."

"You seem a little distracted there, Cosmos."

"...m...mmm?"

"Cooosmos?"

"Hnnmmm?"

"Bit charged?"

"...yessss?"

"You touching yourself yet?"

"...mmmmPrimus yes..."

"Wait, wait! Lemme get comfy here... Ok, why don't you tell me aaaalll about it...nice and slow. With ALL the details."

* * *

Needless to say, I found myself increasingly both anxious and excited to actually meet Blaster. We had, of course, exchanged captures of ourselves. I sent him one of me taken at a gathering for a friend's new creation. He had pronounced me "sexy cute".

He sent me one of him taken at a bar or club, his hands spread and obviously caught in the act of gesturing as he spoke to someone off-capture. It was still a good likeness, catching his smile and the light in his optics. I thought that he was the hottest thing without interstellar thrusters, but I was probably biased.

We met in Iacon, the orn after I landed. I'd arrived just after a disorganized convoy that was obviously terribly run but of higher priority than I was, and I had to wait a bit longer than expected to be cleared to land. I checked in with TCC, unloaded, and was finally officially offshift for the first time in over a vorn. I hurried to the rental place that I frequented when I was on-planet, had some intense quality time with the washrack, took one look at myself in the mirror, and decided that my finish and plating needed professional help. Luckily, the rental building had a spa and detailing shop on-site, and they were nice enough to fit me in immediately. The technicians popped out the few dents I'd accumulated, sent me through the washracks again, then polished me to, as I'd requested, "presentable" rather than "showroom finish" (I didn't want to look TOO much like I'd primped, after all.) By the time they were done, I looked about a million times better than the tired shuttle that had walked in. I tipped the techs generously, wandered back to my rental, fell face-down into my soft berth, and recharged for a solid orn.

My chronometer pinged me awake a joor before we were to meet. I stopped for some energon and reminded myself all the way to Sixth Plaza that this was Blaster, he was a friend, he was sweet, that I had nothing to be nervous about.

I was nervous anyway, of course.

I caught sight of the red communications frame leaning against the fence separating the walkway from the plaza. A small, cowardly part of me wanted to slink away as unobtrusively as a Class D shuttle frame could, but instead I threaded through the pedestrian traffic.

"Blaster?"

The mech turned, his optics initially hitting me mid-thorax before tracking up. "Cosmos?" Blaster's face broke into an easy smile, his hand reaching out to clap my forearm. His field washed against mine, warm and friendly. "Hey, mech, good to see you!"

"It's good to see you, too." I found my field beaming back as I moved to his side. Purely to clear the walkway, of course. "Thanks for taking the time to meet me."

Blaster's hands flipped up and out in a gesture that I couldn't really decode but which looked dismissive enough. "For you, mech, anything." He stepped a bit closer, field a friendly buzz against mine as he leaned back against the fence again...still looking me up and down.

"You look surprised," I said, cocking my helm.

"Oh, no, s'just...knowing what you look like's one thing, but I didn't realize how big you were." He waved his hands. "Not your fault!"

"Oh." I looked down at myself. I was, roughly, about five times his mass. "Is that...a problem?"

Blaster's easy laugh set me back at ease, as did the reassurance in his field. "Mech, it's so far from a problem, I can't even see it from here. Anyway, how you been? Saw you had a few decaorns before your next assignment. You off all that time, or you got somethin' else lined up?"

_Conversation, Cosmos,_ I thought to myself. _Nice, easy conversation. You can do this._

"No, I'm taking the time to rest up. It's been awhile since I've had a significant amount of free time on Cybertron, and that last trip was...long."

"Don't gotta tell me, that's for sure. I know you mechs're built for it, but STILL!" He tilted his helm, and oh Primus, he sounded HOPEFUL. "You got anything fun planned? Check out some shows? Catch up with some friends? Trip to the hot oil spa?"

I nodded. "I'd like to do all of that, really. I don't really have any definite plans, though, except meeting a friend in Praxus in a few decaorns and tickets to see Quasar dayshift after next."

Blaster perked at the artist's name. "OH, you're going to Quasar's concert? Great! I was gonna suggest it in a TOTALLY blatant excuse to spend more time with you."

I smiled, shifting my weight just a bit, coincidentally moving just a micrometer closer. "You know, Blaster, if I didn't know better, I'd think that you were flirting with me."

Blaster grinned. "And you'd be right! So better re-examine who's teaching you better, mech." He winked and tapped the back of his hand against my arm before gesturing across the plaza. "Want to go grab some energon? I hear Maccadam's got in some new flavorings."

I laughed. "It would take a stronger mech than me to turn down that. Sure!"

* * *

We spent most of that orn together, chatting and doing not much of anything. He flirted, I flirted back, and overall it was very tantalizing. I certainly wasn't a newspark unfamiliar with zir own social protocols, but no one had so very obviously and single-mindedly COURTED me before quite like that. I'd like to say that I was entirely proper and that we had a long stretch of getting to know each other before we tumbled into the berth together, but, well, I'd be lying.

We did make it to our second meeting, though.

* * *

::So, I'm gonna be upfront about this,:: Blaster sent over a private comm, as we listened to the fairly indifferent vibroharp being played on the bar's stage. ::I am interested in getting to know every inch of you in every way possible. Sorry if this comes off as too forward, but if you're interested in what I'm interested in, well-:: He tilted his helm away from the stage, optics sliding over my frame with very obvious interest and intent. ::-I want to make sure we set aside as much time as possible for gettin' to it before you got to head back out, you know what I'm sayin'?::

I was far, far from offended (relieved might have been more accurate), and my field fairly purred under the warm, friendly attention Blaster's was giving it. ::I am TOTALLY interested in that. Yes. Definitely.::

His optics brightened, that smile getting a few degrees warmer. ::Well, then, what you say we grab some energon and get the Pit out of here?::

::I've got some triple-distilled high-grade in my subspace?::

::See, I KNEW that you and I would be on the same wavelength. C'mon.::

We headed back to the room that I was renting. His place was closer, but mine was the one that had the shuttle-sized berth. Though distance wasn't so much of a problem when there was an impatient shuttle involved. I startled a few seekers, rising up into the flightlanes, but they couldn't say that I wasn't moving fast enough.

Having an aroused comm mech in my hold didn't do much for my patience, though. An aroused and did I mention SHAMELESS comm mech?

"You...oh Primus, you might want to close up. We're...landing now."

I could see his smile on my internal sensors, though that was a secondary target compared to what his fingers were already doing with his spike. "Could just stay here. You're kinda comfy."

"You...could. Can't spike me from in there, though."

His grin turned wicked. I got the distinct feeling that he kept pushing to see where my boundaries were and was increasingly delighted that I was just as kinky a glitch as he was. "Hm. That IS a drawback."

I set down outside the rental building with only a slightly distracted scrape against the landing zone.

* * *

Cybertronian memory being as fluid as it is, I think it says something that I've never deleted or even archived the memories of those few decaorns. My first few vorns, deleted. Long stretches of my time as a courier and a surveyor, deleted. Scores of missions as an Autobot, archived or deleted. Much of the war, really, I've archived. It's not something I enjoy having on random recall. But Blaster? Always right there, full-spectrum and uncompressed. Who could blame me?

* * *

"Mmmyeah. Want to watch you. Do what you did out in space? Show me how you touched yourself. Show me what I missed."

I wriggled a bit at the idea but had absolutely no objections. Blaster's brand of shamelessness was highly contagious. "Talk to me? Want to hear your voice."

"Oh mech," Blaster purred, as my panel retracted and I slid my fingers down to my already-slick array. "With a show like this, no way I could keep quiet. Yeah, like that. Show me how you like it."

I did, spreading my legs to give me access and him a good view as my fingers circled the base of my spike and rubbed over the external sensors of my valve. Charge crackled over my sensor network, amped up by the way Blaster WATCHED, field pulsing with pleasure and lust. I hadn't known that I had an exhibitionist streak (somehow, the long-distance mutual self-servicing hadn't really qualified), but I found the heat in Blaster's optics and the way his fingers twitched incredibly sexy. I vented long and hot as I ramped up the charge, teasing my sensor net, which informed me that teasing was very, very mean and it was going to overload soon, thank you. I groaned, "I'm...not going to last long."

"Fine by me...why don't you take the edge off, hmm? 'Cuz I want to get inside you, like, a joor ago, and I really, really want us to take our time enjoying that."

"Mmyess...want you..." I shivered, heavy plating chittering together as my fingers slid across my array, valve clenching down as two fingers pressed in.

Blaster curled up next to me, fingers drawing a line of fire over the sensors of my arm and down my wrist. "Want you, too, sexy mech. Oh, you look so good, running so hot. Want you so much, want to get all the way IN you-"

I writhed, unable to NOT writhe between that voice, those words, and my fingers. It was just like over the comm but SO MUCH BETTER with the heat of his field rolling molten over me. "Yes..."

"-spread you open and just push in, and PRIMUS you're so slick, gonna slide in so easy-"

"...yes..."

"-so deep, gonna hit every sensor you got, mech, just roll right over 'em and rub my spike up against your deepest nodes-"

"..._yesss_..."

"-gonna blow your mind, gonna make you feel so good, sexy mech, gonna make you overload over and over and-"

"YES!"

I arched so hard and fast that I almost pushed him off the berth, then collapsed so fast that the berth frame groaned. The next thing I knew, there were hands stroking over my facemask, a smiling Blaster nuzzling at me and telling me how sexy I was, affection/lust and smug charge rolling off him in WAVES. I rumbled and got an arm under him, pulling him and all that lovely charge between my spread legs.

He laughed. "Mmm, ready to go, big bot?"

"Ready when you are," I said. "Now. What was that about making me overload over and over and OH, mmmmmyeah, that was it..."

* * *

He said that I was the first shuttle he'd ever interfaced with, and I think that the appeal of the new and novel was part of why he was so delighted with me. He liked perching on top of me, taking my spike or just draping himself over me like a turbocat, soaking up my field. He was a pretty new experience for me, as well. My previous lovers had all been shuttles, except for one grounder who'd been a cargo-loader, all hydraulics and heavy struts and almost as large as I was. Blaster, on the other hand, was smaller and all sleek angles and oh, the chest. I admit to a slight fetish for the chest compartment.

* * *

My fingers roamed over the glass, fascinated at the smooth, slick texture. "Is this...sensitive at all?"

Blaster grinned. "The glass isn't. Housing around it has sensors but isn't really a turn-on." He curled his fingers around mine and drew them down with a wicked grin. "The connections underneath, though? Mmmmyeah. Here. Let me show you."

He guided my fingers to a seam underneath the compartment, and as my fingers slipped into the gap and brushed a bundle of sensors, he gasped, pressing into me. I smiled, settling in to find all the hot spots there were to be found.

"NnnnnnghPrimus, right there. Deeper in's even better."

"Hrm." My fingers were thicker than his, though, and I could tell that trying to get them any further in was going to be about the opposite of fun and sexy. Then I had an idea. "Wait an astrosec..."

My handling servos were meant for loading and unloading while in shuttle mode. I didn't usually need them in root mode, but I could still transform them out. Blaster's optics lit up when he saw them and then shuttered as I wiggled them in deep into the proffered seam. He vented hard, and I watched him, fascinated, as I spread my fingers to reach four different sensors with tiny servo movements. "Obviously you're made for minibot lovers."

"Oh, I dunno, you're doing a pretty good...OH!"

Those sensors must have been attached to something deep in his frame, as I'd rub and his hips would twitch up. Oh, that gave me IDEAS. I climbed carefully on top of him, taking my weight on my knees and kneeling over his lap. Servos still deep in his seam, I lowered myself onto his spike. It was a very nice spike, hitting all the deep spots that my fingers couldn't. Rather like my servos in his chest...

I playfully rippled the calipers in my valve, and Blaster's helm thumped against the berth. "Primus, mech... Gonna be the death of me..."

"Oh, I hope not," I said, wriggling my servos in a slow wave like an artist playing a vibroharp and getting a groan and a hard thrust in return. "Mmmm...that's not what I'm going for at ALL..."

* * *

For his part, Blaster seemed fascinated by my rounded curves and my size. He enjoyed being under me, with my weight balanced over him, though he learned quickly that this could be a dangerous proposition, especially once we got...slippery.

* * *

"What about...mmmyeah, like that. See, I can reach and you can...mmmyeah, like that, and-"

"Eeep!"

"Eep? What, you ticklish right...here?"

"AckYES, that...aaaaAAAAH!"

"YOW!"

"Oh slag, oh Primus, are you OK? I'm sorry, I slipped and-are you LAUGHING?"

"Yes! Heheh, I'm fine! No, really, it's just a dent. Cosmos, I'm FINE."

"Oh, thank Primus. It's not funny! I'm very dense, and you don't have any armor!"

"Mmmyeah, my sexy solid mech. Sexy, solid...TICKLISH mech!"

"EEEEEEP, BLASTER!"

* * *

We spent a lot of time together those decaorns. Whatever time Blaster didn't have to work, he spent with me, which was rather flattering, really. He's always been a very social and charming mech, and he certainly didn't lack for opportunities to socialize or partners to do it with. Instead, he just smiled and said that all that'd be there in a few decaorns, but I was likely to jet off into space at the drop of a bolt.

We went to see Quasar, then Flip Kick, and several remixer jams. Soundwave was at one of them, though of course we didn't know him at the time. We didn't speak to him, but I saw Blaster smiling wistfully at what was probably a young Ravage.

We went to a hot oil spa for an orn, which was decadent but well worth the shanix for the memories we made in the private oil tub in our suite and the sight of Blaster laid out for wire massage and buffing on one of the spa tables.

Blaster still went to work, of course, and I spent that time relaxing on my own, catching up on my hobbies. I checked out what had been happening in my music, fiction, and media series while I was away, downloaded everything I'd missed, and looked for new things to take with me on the next assignment.

I knew our time was coming to an end when I felt myself starting to look forward to the quiet of space. It wasn't that I didn't like Blaster, nor that I particularly wanted to be working instead of relaxing. But Cybertron was so BUSY, filled with so many mechs. I could only take so much of it before I started needing space that the planet just couldn't give me. The closest was to spend some time on my own, and visiting my friend Starspanner and one of the few remaining crystal forests out by the Rust Sea was just the thing. Something I'd always wanted to see, and something that Blaster couldn't accompany me on, due to his schedule.

* * *

I onlined to the feel of hands stroking my plating. My shielding was not really a part of my sensor net, but I could feel the pressure trembling through the sensors below. I stretched, checking my chronometer and seeing that I'd only been offline for a few joors. "Mmm," I said, burrowing into the berth padding and curling around Blaster indiscriminately. "When do you need to be to work?"

"0700." The hands curled around my waist, holding me close. "Hope you have a good trip, mech. Will I see you again, before you head back out?"

"I'll be back the orn before I go onshift. Around 1300, probably, unless I get delayed. Maybe we could see each other when you get offshift?"

"Mmmmaybe? I'm scheduled from 0700 until 1700 that night, but I think there's some scheduling shenanigans in the works. Might run late."

I shrugged. "We'll see. I'll comm you when I get close, see what's up."

"Sounds like a plan," Blaster stretched, linkages popping. He smiled. "Hopefully we can have one last night before we have to go back to stealing company bandwidth."

"Hopefully." I could feel the regret in his field, and I stroked a hand down his side until he relaxed and snuggled in again. "I had a really good time," I said.

Blaster looked up at me, mock-frowning. "Only really good?"

"A really, REALLY good time?" I nuzzled at his helm finials. "An incredible, processor-blowing good time?"

"Well, that's fine, then." He grinned up at me, hands cupping my helm. "Gonna miss you. I mean, we're not really a perfect match, but this was a fun time."

I turned my helm to press my face into his hand. "Yes. Yes, it definitely was."

And we left it at that.

* * *

Sometimes out there in the darkness, light-years from anything and anyone, I marvel that in this great, hollow universe, we ever managed to meet other species at all.

Space is empty. A vast wasteland spattered with stars and planets, streaked by asteroids and rogue bodies, occasionally traversed by a thousand different species. It is difficult for most beings to imagine the sheer magnitude of the distances between stars. Like electrons in an atom, the galaxies, solar systems, planets, and all manner of subplanetary bodies zip around in predictable patterns, dancing through a vast nothingness.

Those of my frametype are specifically built to not need as much social interaction as most Cybertronians. To do otherwise would be unimaginably cruel, with the bulk of our functionings so far from others and often not even within communications range. We learn to deal with the long silences in our own ways. Reading. Writing. Learning. Playing games. Creating digital art. Philosophizing. Anything to keep one's processor occupied.

It works. Mostly.

That does not mean, however, that we cannot, occasionally, feel very small and fragile and insignificant as we putter through the darkness between the stars. It does not mean that we cannot rejoice in the sound of another's voice beamed to us, specifically. It is a reminder that we are known, recognized...and not forgotten.

* * *

"Blaster to Cosmos, Cosmos do you read?"

"I read, Blaster. Good to hear your voice. How's my standard approach look?"

"Clear and easy! You'll probably swing past Astrotrain as he returns from Moonbase 3, but the peace has, amazingly, not fallen apart since you left, so don't be alarmed. And welcome back!"

"Good to hear, and thanks! Looking forward to a bit of rest and recharge. What's on tap at Maccadam's tonight?"

"Let's see...there's the usual...Drillers, Starsabers, and your fave, Spark Crushers-"

"Num!"

"-and we're in the middle of a new trend for drink names making fun of our glorious leaders, so we have Flirty Fusion Cannon, Screaming Sun, Tableflipper, and Big Bad Trucker on tap-there's a story there, remind me to tell it to you, it is HILARIOUS."

"Heh, it sounds it."

"And last but not least, there's also something Mixmaster came up with called CR Goo."

"...Ew."

"Rumble says it tastes a lot better than it sounds."

"I imagine it'd be hard to taste WORSE than it sounds."

"Yeah, tell me about it. ...aaand you are cleared to land on 9 on a 1600-1630 window. ...Meet you at Maccadam's at 1900?"

"Sure! It's a date."


End file.
